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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945947">Shout at the Wall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/choccy__o/pseuds/choccy__o'>choccy__o</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Anorexia, Anxiety, Best Friends, Borderline Personality Disorder, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Existentialism, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, LGBTQ Themes, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Nightmares, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychosis, Self-Harm, Soulmates, Therapy, Trauma, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, no beta we die like l'manberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/choccy__o/pseuds/choccy__o</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy doesn't think anything is wrong with him, but the red haze over his vision and the jagged scars in the shape of his own fingernails running down his legs beg to differ.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Or, the mental institution au you didn't know you needed</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>450</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shattered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please check the end notes for chapter specific content warnings.</p><p>also, Tommy's experience with dissociation is based off of mine, so don't be too mad if it seems extreme, because it has a real life basis :)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This work includes very heavy topics, please do not read if you are negatively affected by the following:</p><p>strong language<br/>mental health disorders (check tags for specifics)<br/>manipulation<br/>self harm<br/>eating disorders<br/>blood<br/>intrusive thoughts<br/>sexual assualt (mentioned)<br/>child abuse (mentioned)<br/>love you guys, stay safe and healthy &lt;3</p><p>disclaimer: this is in no way meant to represent the actions of the streamers these characters are based on. additionally, please try to refrain from villianizing the actions some of the characters take because of the influence of their illness, everyone deserves love and support during recovery &lt;3</p><p>(if a content creator says that they are uncomfortable with the content included, please let me know and I will alter or delete this work.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>see the end notes for specific content warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy wasn't damaged. He didn't need help. And he definitely didn't need to go to a fucking mental hospital.</p><p> </p><p>Anger issues and self harm tendencies my ass!</p><p> </p><p>He wasn't even that bad, just a few mood swings and his parents had decided to ship him off to an institution so he could “get better.” He didn’t fucking need to get better, he was doing fine. He had learned to deal with the anger, he could function. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy wasn’t some broken porcelain plate that needed to be sent to an old woman’s antique store to be carefully glued back together. No, he was strong, and he was able to deal with his emotions.</p><p> </p><p>When they had informed him of their plans to “get him help,” he had desperately tried not to prove them right, but he just ended up with bloody lines in the shape of his fingernails running along the sides of his arms as he tried so hard not to explode. And their eyes just showed confirmation, as if he had just given them prime reasoning to get rid of their broken son. And that’s exactly what they were doing, they were getting rid of him because he wasn’t the perfect son they expected.</p><p> </p><p>He did well in school, he even had a few friends and was quite good at piano. But they couldn’t look past his small flaws and see that he was okay, he didn’t need to be locked up in a psych ward with a bunch of lunatics.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He tried to ignore the fact that he was deemed too mentally unstable to be a part of regular society. He was forced to visit the psychiatrist twice a week for the two months before he was to be checked into the institution, and it was a living hell. The absolute stranger tried to pry into his mind, and Tommy was not having it. There was no way he was going to put up with it, so he gave half-assed answers and hid what he was actually thinking. </p><p> </p><p>Which included grabbing the sharpest pen from the man’s desk and stabbing it deep into his own thigh, pushing through skin and nerves and muscle until it hit bone, twisting it and forcing the blood to gush out- and he would bleed out right there in the too-perfect office, ruining the grey carpet so that anyone who had an appointment after him would have to see the evidence that he was there, he had died right there, and the psychiatrist had been able to do nothing about it.</p><p> </p><p>As much as Tommy wanted to do it, he couldn’t bring himself to prove them all right, so he held in his pride and pretended for the sake of his own sanity. But he slipped sometimes, and accidentally revealed his harmful intentions to the man on the other side of the desk, who noted the admissions with an unreadable look in his eyes, eventually coming to a diagnosis.</p><p> </p><p>Borderline Personality Disorder is what the man had said it was called. Mood swings anger issues, and dozens of other habits, but Tommy tuned him out. He didn’t need to know, he knew what was wrong with him and didn’t need a label. But the name only made it worse, as he was now able to walk around going “I have a diagnosed mental condition that landed me in a mental hospital! I'm fucked up in the brain and could be a danger to both myself and others if not supervised!”</p><p> </p><p>As if it wasn’t enough to check him into a whole psych ward over some anger issues, his parents took him out of normal school and switched him to online for the time being. He was in the final stretch of his sophomore year of highschool, so hopefully missing a couple of months due to his fucked up brain wouldn’t hurt his academics too much.</p><p> </p><p>The worst part of this was him losing all contact with his friends and not being able to tell them why. How could he just text them one day and say “Hey guys, I’m a bit fucked up in the brain so my parents decided that I’m too dangerous for society and I won’t see you for a long time because I’m being checked into a fucking psych ward”? There was no way for him to say it without sounding like a complete lunatic, and so he opted to just block all contact with them. It might have hurt then, but it would be better than them knowing why he seemingly disappeared into thin air.</p><p> </p><p>If anything, that was the worst part, because when he was in a mood swing he couldn’t call up his friends to hop on discord and play some games. No, instead he had to internalize it, he had to channel that anger somewhere, and that somewhere just happened to be his own skin.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>In his mind, he still denied the fact that he needed help. And that he was being forced to get it.</p><p> </p><p>He ignored that he was going to a mental institution. He ignored it as he packed his clothes into a suitcase (no buttons, no zippers, no drawstrings, no revealing cuts, no pockets, no printed images) that he lugged down the stairs and into the trunk of his parents’ car, as they drove 45 minutes until they arrived at the single story gray building. As they filled out the final paperwork that solidified his sentence. As they agreed that Tommy would be staying here for at least four months, giving some bullshit excuse as to why he could possibly need more time to heal.</p><p> </p><p>It only hit him when his parents gave him hugs and a kiss on the cheek before a tall man took his suitcase and led him down many halls until he arrived at an open door frame- there were no doors on the bedrooms, he explained, because the patients had to be monitored at all times.</p><p>Tommy could physically feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, or maybe it was a looming panic attack, he had no way to tell. But the man droned on and explained the rules before finally allowing Tommy to enter the room, and to his dismay he saw that there was not one but two beds in the room, and the one closest to the door was occupied by a boy about his age, sitting and reading a book. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh fuck no!” Tommy exclaimed, “I didn’t know I would have to fucking share a room with someone! I’m being forced to live here for at least four months and I can’t even be alone?”</p><p> </p><p>The boy sitting down jumped while slamming his hands over his ears and snapping his eyes shut. Tommy paled and turned around to grab the man that brought him there, but he was gone and the suitcase was sitting on the floor. Great. He already had to work through his own shit, but now he had another panicked boy with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh… are you good?” </p><p> </p><p>The boy was unresponsive, silently rocking back and forth with tears leaking out of his closed eyes. “Ah fuck, uhm, okay. I'm going to touch you if that’s alright.” Tommy knew the boy couldn’t hear him, but he still said it aloud if only to reassure himself.</p><p> </p><p>He finally stepped further into the room, sitting down on the bed next to the boy. Ever so gingerly, Tommy placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. It only caused a small flinch, which wasn’t too bad. What was bad, however, was the string of mumbling that came out of the boy.</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t hurt me. Please not again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault!”</p><p> </p><p>This seemed to trigger the last bit of Tommy’s empathy, and he decided that this boy didn’t need to be crying any more. So he took a deep breath, and started talking to the boy, telling him that he was okay, no one would hurt him, he was safe. And as he did this, Tommy slowly worked to pull his hands from his ears so he could hear his voice. </p><p> </p><p>And it took many long minutes before the boy opened his eyes and looked straight at Tommy, and in a voice that did not seem to fit someone who had just had a panic attack, said:</p><p> </p><p>“Who the fuck are you?’</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The boy had introduced himself as Toby, or Tubbo as he preferred, and said he would be staying in the institution for a very long time, it seemed. He suffered from PTSD and wouldn’t tell Tommy what from, but Tommy could tell it was something physical judging by his earlier reactions.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy had simply said he was fucked up in the mind and left it at that. No need for specifics. He did seem to like Tubbo though, as he was quite funny.</p><p> </p><p>It was only a few hours before dinner, so Tommy decided he would nap until then. He set his suitcase at the end of the unoccupied bed and sat down, taking his shoes off. (They had made him remove his own shoes and wear slippers. Fucking slippers, for fear of him using his own shoelaces to strangle himself. He would admit he was messed up in the head, but he would never be so fucked to resort to that.) </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Tubbo asked from across the room. He seemed to have recovered from the previous encounter quite well, the tear tracks barely visible at this point. Tommy guessed this was because those attacks probably happened often, and Tubbo was used to having to recover.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna take a nap. Or is that not allowed?” Tubbo giggled.</p><p> </p><p>“Group therapy is in fifteen minutes. I mean, unless you have a yellow slip to get out of it, you’ll probably get in trouble for missing it.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy let out a drawn out groan, flopping back onto his clean white sheets.</p><p> </p><p>"Wake me up in ten minutes then," he said, and promptly fell asleep.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Group therapy was by far the worst part of the institution. Tommy thought he was mental, but the others in the room with him were just insane. Tubbo was okay, though.</p><p> </p><p>They were sat in a circle on the floor of a room that he could tell was meant to be comforting, but the fake plants and abstract art on the walls just added to the plasticy fakeness of the building as a whole. There were pillows scattered about, and some were clutching them tightly to their chests, others sitting on them, while Tommy opted to not touch anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>The walls were painted a pale yellow, which was obviously meant to be calming, except it just reminded Tommy of a story he had read in his first year english class about a man who had killed his wife and hidden her body behind yellow wallpaper. It amplified the creepy feeling and put him on edge.</p><p> </p><p>Now, for the introductions. There was Clay, Dream as he preferred (the counselor had called him Clay once and he almost stopped breathing altogether.) Dream told the group he had severe ADHD and OCD, which was very apparent in the repetitiveness of his movements.</p><p> </p><p>Next to him was George, who said he had depression, but Tommy could tell it was much more than that judging by the gauntness of his face and the way his collar bone clearly protruded even through his thick t-shirt. It was as if his skin was stretched tight on a thin skeletal frame.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy could see that Dream had an attachment to George, as most of his motor stims included tapping on the other boy's knee or squeezing his hand four times. George didn't seem to mind, however, and just returned the actions back. Tommy had a feeling that if he didn't it would be one hell of a breakdown for Dream.</p><p> </p><p>Next up were Karl and Nick (Sapnap) who were clearly holding hands and cuddling. God damn, was everyone in this place fucking gay? Not that he had a problem with it, but all the lovey dovey shit was hurting his head and almost made him start scratching himself. But he had to hold it in for now should the counselor see.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap simply said he had "destructive tendencies" and that Karl was prone to derealization and dissociation. It seemed he was dissociating just now, his eyes glossed over and staring into another plane while he leaned heavily against Sapnap with his head on his shoulder. He was softly grasping Sapnap's hand, and the other boy rubbed circles on it with his thumb. Ugh. Sappy shit. Sappy Nappy shit. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy groaned aloud at the terrible pun, and he tried to play it off when all the heads in the circle turned to him. Tubbo burst into giggles next to him as the counselor spoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, Thomas would you like to go next?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's Tommy," he bit out. "And I guess I have fuckin Borderline personality disorder or whatever. Makes me lash out a shit ton, and made my parents ship me to this place so that's great."</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo's increasingly louder giggles were starting to get annoying, and he tried so hard not to snap, but of course had to at that moment.</p><p> </p><p>"Could you just shut the fuck up already? I'm over here embarrassing myself and you're just laughing!"</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo's giggles were cut off, and his eyes brimmed with tears before be turned away from Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, please do not lash out at others," the counselor scolded.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy scoffed and stood up, deciding to just go back to his room. Rules be damned, if they wanted him to stay there they would have to physically restrain him. First of all, he was being forced to open up about his trauma, which caused enough anxiety. But with Tubbo ignoring the seriousness of the moment and disregarding the position Tommy was put in, of course he would be pushed into a mood swing. There was a red haze over his vision, but he really did not feel like getting in trouble for hurting a stranger in the hallways, so he dug his nails into his palms and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. No one had followed him, and for a place with such high supervision, he was surprised he had been able to roam the halls without one of those stupid ass yellow slips.</p><p> </p><p>Before he knew it, he was tumbling into the pristine sheets of his bed (damn, did they change the sheets that often?), immediately falling asleep. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Tubbo shook him awake for dinner, which would be his first meal in the institution. While the other boy was polite, it was obvious he was making an effort to avoid eye contact, or even confrontation as a whole. </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo silently led Tommy to the cafeteria, which was a large room with flat, smooth walls and fluorescent lights. It seemed as if their therapy group had a claim over a table just large enough to fit them all, and the two boys slipped into the two remaining chairs. Thank whatever higher power there was that Tommy didn't have to fend his way for a seat like he did at school.</p><p> </p><p>There were still people at the table he wasn't familiar with (which, he noted, was his own fault for storming out during introductions) and he tried to listen into the conversation to learn their names.</p><p> </p><p>Niki, Eret, Wilbur, Techno… He couldn't focus long enough to remember all their names, and he zoned out, staring at the ceiling. Until a sweet female voice interrupted his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello Tommy! I'm Niki!" The woman said, emphasizing her friendly words with a wave. </p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, to be clear Niki is probably the most friendly person in this entire building," joked Wilbur, the man sitting next to her.</p><p> </p><p>She giggled, but there was an edge to it that Tommy couldn't decipher, until she leaned across the table and spoke in a low, chilling voice.</p><p> </p><p>"I will be friendly to you, but if you cross me, I will end you. I've done many terrible things with nothing but my hands."</p><p> </p><p>She backed away with a sweet smile and Tommy paled, nodding towards her and trying to find something else to focus on.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the trays of food were being handed out, consisting of grilled tofu, steamed broccoli, and a bowl of vegetable broth, along with a large glass of water and a very dull plastic spoon.</p><p> </p><p>"You have to eat all of it, or you'll get in trouble," Tubbo mumbled to him.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nodded and glanced around at the group, his eyes landing on Dream and George. Dream was meticulously dividing up his food, pushing each type into a separate corner of his tray, categorizing the broccoli by size and shape. He then stole exactly two pieces of broccoli and one cube of tofu from George, which evened out his plate. He lined each up in his categories with a satisfied smile before he finally began to eat. George, however, just stared at his plate, unmoving, and with a faraway look in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap, who was next to George, ate ferociously as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, while he periodically nudged Karl to remind him to take bites. The man would only lift a single piece of food into his mouth, sometimes forgetting to chew it, but his partner was patient with him. It was sweet.</p><p> </p><p>Eret, Niki, Tommy, and Tubbo seemed to be the only people at the table eating like normal human beings, consuming their dinner at a moderate pace that seemed to match the rest of the room. Tommy still didn't know much about Eret, but on multiple occasions he glanced at them and found Eret already staring at him with a smirk. It was quite unsettling, to be honest. The meal was going smoothly so far, until George let out a whimper and the entire table had to pretend like they weren't staring at him.</p><p> </p><p>"Dream, I can't do it. I already did lunch, I can't do it again."</p><p> </p><p>"If you eat two bites of each food I'll eat the rest."</p><p> </p><p>"I-I can't-"</p><p> </p><p>"It has to be two, or else I can't do it George. I'm sorry, but I'm already breaking the rules for you and I can't break my own rules too, or I might have another panic attack and I already had one this morning."</p><p> </p><p>George sighed and slowly ate his two bites of each type, before glancing around and nudging Dream to take his food. Dream then scooped it onto his own plate, beginning his process of meticulously organizing once again.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy finished his dinner in silence.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>It was very late in the night when the guilt hit Tommy. He guessed he had come down from his anger high, and was now feeling the full force of how he had acted. He had lashed out at Tubbo, and then acted like everything was fine. That wasn't okay.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo? Are you awake?" A pause.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I'm here." Tommy laid there for a moment, wishing he was anywhere but here.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, dude. I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier."</p><p> </p><p>"It's okay Tommy." He sighed, releasing a pent up breath. "It's not your fault, I understand why you reacted that way. I also reacted negatively to it, so I guess we're both in the wrong here."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, we're both fucked up in the old brain, aren't we? Tommy and Tubbo, sitting in the mental hospital at one thirty six a.m., talking about their feelings."</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo laughed with a snort. </p><p> </p><p>"Goodnight Tommy."</p><p> </p><p>"Goodnight Tubbo."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content Warnings for this chapter:<br/>self destructive thoughts<br/>self harm<br/>eating disordered actions<br/>dissociation<br/>panic attacks<br/>ptsd flashbacks</p><p>do not read if this will affect you negatively &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Routine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally settling into the routine of the institution, Tommy has some breakthroughs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>disclaimer: ALL interactions between Tommy and Tubbo are strictly platonic. (Will be discussed at a further point)</p><p>See end notes for chapter specific content warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>A few days later it was breakfast, and Tommy didn't like the fact that Tubbo couldn't be there with him. Something about a bullshit individual therapy session that for some reason had to take up the entire first half of the breakfast hour. (Tommy had been told he didn't need to have private therapy until his third week at the institution, and his parents could visit on the fourth.) Tommy already hated the stupid plastic spoons that didn't even work.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy had been forced to sit with Eret, alone with the unsettling person and their strangely milky colored eyes, so he decided he might as well get some answers.</p><p> </p><p>"So what's your thing? You seem pretty normal to me dude."</p><p> </p><p>Eret's eyes flashed for a moment, with something akin to <em>glee</em>, letting out a contented hum.</p><p> </p><p>"I may look fucking normal to you, but that's the whole point. You wanna know why I'm so quiet in therapy?" Eret let out a chuckle and leaned closer to Tommy, lowering their voice.  </p><p> </p><p>"I'm analyzing you. I've only known you for a few days, but I know everything about you. I've been categorizing every little action you do, and I've already got you figured out! I know that you're super uncomfortable right now because you don't have your <em>Tubbo</em> here to hold your hand.I know that you are <em>still</em> denying your diagnosis because it's easier than trying to recover." They leaned in even closer.</p><p> </p><p>"I know that you've worn that same stupid shirt every day because it makes you look special, it gives you a little staple symbol for everyone to remember." Their face contorted into a scary grin, their gaze boring deep into Tommy's eyes. "It's your <em>brand</em> Tommy, you're trying to imprint on all these mentally ill fuckers. Props to you for that!"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy gulped, pushing back the anger simmering at the back of his mind. He could feel the full effect of the incoming mood swing but was trying desperately to not acknowledge it outwardly. The shirt was his comfort, the one thing that reminded him of his friends outside, but maybe Eret had a point. Maybe he was manipulating everyone.</p><p> </p><p>Eret continued.</p><p> </p><p>"It's smart, Tommy. Even I have my <em>thing</em>, I've got these sunglasses!" They tapped the glasses against the edge of the table. "I'm still surprised they let me bring them in here. Woulda thought they would deem them <em>dangerous</em>. Maybe I'll end up killing myself with them just to prove a point."</p><p> </p><p>Eret laughed, the loud, free sound echoing off the walls. They still had that wide grin across their face, and it freaked Tommy out that they could laugh about such topics. It was quite sad, he had to admit.</p><p> </p><p>"You're scared Tommy, you're scared of me. And it makes me very pleased to hear that, because it's the whole point!" They emphasized this by slamming their fists on the table and dropping the smile, opting for a blank face which was somehow even more terrifying than the fake happiness.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy finally had enough, so he unleashed the floodgates of his mind, and he fully expected the anger to take over as it always had, but this feeling was different, and entirely unwelcome. </p><p> </p><p>He was suddenly <em>numb</em>, unable to react to what was happening, and all he wanted to do was run away and curl up in his bed. Not his bed in the institution, but his bed at home, which had his favorite navy blue bed sheets and the teddy bear that his mother gave him for his fifth birthday that he still kept. He wanted to hug his dogs- oh. Betty and Walter must be missing him so much right now. </p><p> </p><p>Or what if they didn't miss him? What if his whole family was gathered right now, laughing and having fun without him, while he rotted away in the institution, while he sat there with a freak who was psychoanalyzing his every move? They <em>did</em> send him here because they wanted him to be "fixed" and "back to normal."</p><p> </p><p>And what if they were freely enjoying a meal, one where they could serve themselves to their own wants, while he was provided with carefully calculated portions and could only eat with a wide, dull spoon for fear of him stabbing a fork into the side of his neck, blood dribbling out as he slowly lost consciousness and maybe, <em>finally</em> escaped this hellhole-</p><p> </p><p>"-ommy? Tommy? Are you there?"</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, the thick fog of his imagination dissipating slowly, as he struggled to make contact with reality, his feet ghosting the ground while his wrists were bruisingly gripped in the upper atmosphere of his mind. It took many long moments, but now he noticed the comforting weight of a smaller, softer hand in his, and he was sitting in a different room, with warmer yellow lights and decorative plants adorning the desk in front of him. <em>Fuck</em>, he was in one of the counselor's offices.</p><p> </p><p>He almost began to hyperventilate, the panic of getting into real trouble affecting him heavily for some reason, warm tears bubbling up and threatening to spill over. Did he let himself lash out again? <em>Fuck</em>, had he hurt Eret? But the hand in his squeezed, and he moved his gaze to look at their intertwined hands, then up the other's arms to his face. He met eyes with his roommate, Toby- <em>Tubbo</em>. Tubbo gave him a reassuring smile and spoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello Tommy! I saw you were having a bad time so I took you in here but I didn't want to leave you because I don't like being alone so I thought maybe you wouldn't either so I hope you're okay with me being with you?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy tried to speak, but had to clear his closed up throat after only a dry croak came out.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah Tubbo, that's alright." Tommy sighed. "Thanks for helping me out." He tried to smile at Tubbo but it only came out as a grimace to which Tubbo giggled at.</p><p> </p><p>A hum from behind the desk caused both him and Tubbo to jump, forgetting that they were not alone in the room. They were never alone in this shit hole of a hospital. Tubbo giggled.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello Thomas, are you alright with Toby being here while we discuss some… personal information?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy didn't particularly enjoy the fact that this woman knew his name while he didn't know hers. It felt very impersonal, as she had most likely examined his files while he had never heard of her.</p><p> </p><p>"It’s Tommy. And yeah, that's alright," he answered her. He trusted Tubbo.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, so your file shows that you have experienced an… extreme case of borderline personality disorder and a trend of acting on anger, is that correct?" She handed him the file containing his information.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>PATIENT RECORD #8394</strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Full name: Thomas Simons</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>•Date of Birth: 4/9/2004</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Eyes: Gray/Blue</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Hair: Blonde</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Height: 6' 2"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Physical Examination notes:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•No pressing medical issues found.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Assorted self harm scars (healed)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mental Examination notes:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Anger issues, self harm tendencies, mood swings, dissociation</em>
</p><p>
  <em>•Patient will not reveal other habits, but it is clear there are more</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder</p><p> note: possible depression and/or anxiety.</p><p> </p><p>She had the fucking file, of course she was correct. Tommy nodded, shifting a bit closer to Tubbo on the white leather couch they were sharing. He slid the file back over the desk. Tommy expected to get angry, but yet again only tears formed. It made him more upset that he couldn't feed through the anger, only… empty sadness. He felt Tubbo's hand slip into his.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, you were talking to Eret, correct?" A nod. "Did they say or do anything that could have affected you in a negative way?"</p><p> </p><p>He thought back to the conversation with Eret, who had gotten inside his head and sifted through his psyche until they gained power over Tommy. And he thought about the repercussions of telling this woman of what had happened, how Eret could back him into a metaphysical corner and strip away his protective layers until he was nothing but a miserable, vulnerable rodent ready to be snatched up and torn apart by the greedy talons of a vulture.</p><p> </p><p>"No," he firmly stated. "Eret is a nice guy. They wouldn't do anything like that."</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He was walking back to his and Tubbo’s shared room, the smaller boy’s hand still in his. The woman (who he still hadn’t learned the name of, not that he particularly cared) had informed him that he had just experienced the other end of the spectrum of BPD for the first time. While in the past he had always shifted straight to anger and violence, this time he had touched base with the opposite, which the woman had informed him could include numbness, depressive episodes, guilt, dissociative tendencies, and lack of emotional response. Great. Just fucking great.</p><p> </p><p>She had also informed him that this was a good thing, and that it brought him one step closer to recovery and coping. He didn’t <em>want</em> to recover, or cope, or whatever she rambled on about. He wanted to leave this place and go back to his normal life. He was doing just fine before coming here.</p><p> </p><p>It was so much easier to lose himself to the anger, to surrender himself to the overwhelming urge to hurt someone, which was visibly reflected through the thin white lines running along the inside of his thighs (While he enjoyed the feeling of hurting someone, he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt anyone else. So he had to channel it somehow.) It was so easy to just repress everything else in lieu of pain. But of course, now he just <em>had</em> to unlock this new side of himself that he never wanted to, and the dumbass of a counselor had tried telling him it was a good thing? Fuck that.</p><p> </p><p>“Tooooommmmyyyy,” Tubbo’s voice rang out next to him. He waved a hand in front of Tommy’s face. Tommy blinked.</p><p> </p><p>The two boys were standing in the middle of a hallway on the path back to their shared room; Tommy had seemingly spaced out again. They had both received permission to miss the rest of their counseling sessions for the day, because apparently Tommy was in need of “mental rest after experiencing such a big breakthrough in his recovery.” He thought that was bullshit, and argued that he would only do this if Tubbo could stay with him as well. </p><p> </p><p>At this point of course, Tubbo had become his closest friend, and he didn’t want to spend an entire day locked up in his room alone. While skipping group therapy was a plus, it also meant he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except for his own room. So the woman had reluctantly also given Tubbo one of the yellow paper slips that stated her consent for him to skip therapy, and they had been on their merry way.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I- Sorry big man.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay Tommy, let’s just head back.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy gently pulled his hand away from Tubbo’s and chose to hug himself instead as he walked. Not that he was embarrassed of holding hands as a teenage boy- he had seen worse, it was a mental hospital for christ’s sake- but he just felt like a bother and wanted to let Tubbo have some space. Tubbo didn’t mind though, just shooting Tommy a quick smile before picking up the pace again and returning them to their room.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>It was group therapy time again, and the same group sat on the floor of the fake-comfortable room. Tommy didn't like that he had already fit himself into the routine of the group, it felt as if he was actually leaving behind his old life and acknowledging his problems. And today's therapy session was so stupid, the topics only surrounding personal interests. </p><p> </p><p>It was funny, however, when the counselor asked what everyone's favorite colors were, and Sapnap and Dream burst out laughing, barely managing to take a breath deep enough to share that George was apparently colorblind. Tommy couldn't help but to join in on the laughter, because come on that was comedy gold right there. </p><p> </p><p>And then of course Karl had zoned back into reality at just the right moment to admit that he, too, was colorblind, and the whole room burst into howling laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy could sense that the loud noise was affecting Tubbo, so he reached out and offered him a hand to hold. (It was strange, Tommy noted, that he already knew most of Tubbo's tells. He could see any sort of negativity in the shorter boy from a mile away.) Tubbo took the outstretched wordlessly and squeezed, eventually joining in the ruckus with small chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>But Tommy especially loved it when the counselor began talking about animals, and Tubbo's eyes lit up animatedly before he started talking about bees, and Tommy couldn't help but to point out that bees were bugs, not animals.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh shut up Tommy. Anyways, I like bees because they are risky but they pay off. Like if you are nice and gentle with them, they are nice back to you. They even help the flowers and make honey that you can eat!" Tubbo then turned fully towards Tommy, looking him in the eyes genuinely.</p><p> </p><p>"And if you hurt them, they will sting you. You can't blame them for it either, it's a survival mechanism built into their DNA. They can't control it. But if they do sting you, they will die, and their last memory will be you causing them pain."</p><p> </p><p>The mood of the entire room had dropped, as the air became as thick as the brick walls that lined the highway between Tommy's neighborhood and the institution. Tubbo looked back towards the center of the room.</p><p> </p><p>"They're fragile creatures, and you have to be careful around them, but they still deserve all your love."</p><p> </p><p>No one said anything for a few minutes. The conversation had apparently come to a stagnant lull, and so the counselor decided to end the session early. This made Tommy very excited, but for some reason his vision had begun to swim and he couldn't access his own thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone filtered out the door, Tubbo standing up to leave too, but Tommy still sat on the ground. He was there in the room physically, but his mind had begun to drift somewhere far away.</p><p> </p><p>"Sh-sorry, think 'm disshothiating," he managed to slur out, losing all motor skills, and one of the last tangible things he remembered before fully floating away was Tubbo sitting back down next to him and giving him a surface to lean back on.</p><p> </p><p>He had only experienced dissociation to this degree twice before, and both times he had been in the safety of his own room late at night, eventually drifting off to sleep and forgetting most of what happened. </p><p> </p><p>Here, he was in a still unfamiliar setting, and maybe it was the uncomfortable mood of the previous conversation, but his dissociative state was both more clear and more confusing at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>At first, it was as if he were the security camera in the corner of the room, watching his own body be held firmly around the waist by Tubbo while the counselor checked that Tommy was okay, before sitting behind their desk to type on their laptop. And he could see the way his own eyes were fluttering open and closed, his hands making their way to grasp at Tubbo's shirt. It reminded him of a dying patient in the hospital shows his mother would watch.</p><p> </p><p>Then he was suddenly back in his body, but the edges of his vision were blurred and red. And he was standing <em>outside</em>, on the sidewalk at the front of the institution, with Tubbo by his side. A car that moved both too slow and too fast screeched to a stop in front of him, and he had no control over his movements as he entered the driver's seat and Tubbo the passenger's. </p><p> </p><p>He also had no control over himself as he slammed the accelerator down and crashed both of them into a nearby wall, Tubbo passing out on impact with blood gushing from his nose. </p><p> </p><p><em>Hopefully he's dead</em>, Tommy heard himself think, and he tried desperately to fight back against his mind, but he seemed to be trapped in a titanium box at the bottom of the ocean of his mind, with feet-thick walls which held back his own thoughts and replaced them with broken fragments of his psyche. He pounded his fists on the walls, and it took him a moment to realize he was, in fact, physically inside that very box. And he was running out of oxygen, fast. He continued to claw and scream at the walls for fucking trapping him inside his own mind.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully the scene began to fade away, but not before the vision of a half dead Tubbo had sat down next to him in the box. He still had the blood flowing steadily from his nose. Tubbo turned to Tommy and spoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Guess I provoked the bees, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy screamed for what seemed like hours.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He was still holding hands with Tubbo when the fog suddenly dissipated, and he couldn't do anything but whimper, pulling himself closer in Tubbo's warm embrace. Tommy was hyper aware of the material of his own shirt touching his skin, and the feeling of Tubbo's heartbeat next to his ear.</p><p> </p><p>"It's okay Tommy, I've got you," he soothed.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy opened his eyes with a shudder, and saw that he was sitting with Tubbo on the other boy's bed. <em>How the fuck did he get there</em>? Tubbo seemed to see the confusion written on his face and chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>"I got help to carry you back here and I promised to tell someone if you got worse. But it's past curfew now and I think you're alright, so there's really no reason to bother anyone. I mean unless you want to talk with a counselor?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shook his head no, and sighed. His mind was still swimming; Linking his thoughts together into a coherent stream was about as difficult as being given a box of puzzle pieces that were all the same color. And the lights were turned off, leaving him blindly attaching strings of consciousness together and hoping they fit correctly.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you want to go to your bed?"</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause to try and think, and Tommy managed to understand through the confusion that no, the hug he was in was warm and he didn't want to leave for a while. Because if he left, he felt as if his feet would lift off the ground once again and would be lost in his mind for who knows how long. Tubbo was the only thing grounding him there. So he shook his head no once again, and Tubbo hummed contentedly.</p><p> </p><p>"That's alright, don't worry Tom. You're safe."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy smiled. <em>Safe</em>.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content Warnings for this chapter:<br/>-manipulation<br/>-dissociation<br/>-self harm<br/>-car crash, self destructive actions<br/>-blood<br/><br/>I'm really proud of this one :)<br/>I also based tommy's dissociation off of mine, I know not everyone has the "living nightmare" type dissociation but I do so I know how to write about it :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Fragment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy has individual therapy, and a deep conversation with Tubbo.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>See end of chapter notes for chapter specific content warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Two weeks into his stay, the documents had said. Two weeks into his stay was when Tommy would begin individual therapy, and he was not happy about it in the slightest. Tubbo told him that therapy was "helpful in learning about oneself and relieving anxiety", but if anything Tommy felt the opposite. The thought of being in a room with an adult, alone, for forty five minutes three times a week did not sit well with him. It only brought him more anxiety rather than relieving it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the morning crew began to clear away their empty breakfast plates (2 pieces of unbuttered toast, a single scrambled egg, apple and orange slices, vanilla yogurt) Tommy made his way to stand up and leave, even though he thought of private therapy made him want to expel his breakfast onto the floor. Tubbo then grabbed his hand, earning a startled yelp from Tommy. Tubbo laughed sheepishly while Tommy sat back down and swore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry Toms. Didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wish you luck at therapy today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo smiled genuinely, and it did relieve some of the nerves, but Tommy didn't need reassurance </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you very much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't need fucking luck, whichever bitch I have to talk to isn't getting anything out of me. Nothing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that, he gave Tubbo's hand one last squeeze before handing the cleaners his plastic plate and walking away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just try, Tommy. If not for you, for me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn't respond, or even look back for that matter, but he cursed again. Of course Tubbo knew he was Tommy's soft spot, the only thing in this godforsaken institute he would go out of his way for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down the rest of the hall, he could see other patients who had the same therapy time as him. Of course he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get the shift directly after breakfast, taking away his favorite downtime of the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy knocked on the door of the room he was assigned to, and it immediately opened to reveal a woman a few inches shorter than him. He jumped back, startled. Had she been </span>
  <em>
    <span>waiting</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the door for him? Creepy bitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello Thomas-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's Tommy-" he cut in with a bite. If he was going to spill all his secrets to this woman for a while she might as well know his fucking name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hello </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she repeated with an almost sarcastic tone. "My name is Lily and I'll be your private therapist while you stay here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily was average height, with tanned skin, wispy black hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and smile lines etched into her face. Tommy couldn't tell if she was dressed casual or formal, her light blue button down and jeans with heels to top it off confusing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood there for another moment, maybe waiting for him to introduce himself as well, but after he stayed silent she sighed and </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> led him into her office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looked… startlingly similar to a living room. There was a couch, a recliner, and bookshelves, with a small desk in the corner. Of course, there was the far wall  housing rows of file cabinets (which in his opinion held </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much personal information) for patient records, but otherwise it seemed actually cozy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stood in the doorway awkwardly until she gestured for him to sit down, and he opted to sit lightly on the couch, while she followed and sat in the recliner across from him. He looked at his shoes, hoping to waste as many seconds out of the 45 minutes as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me about yourself, Tommy," Lily said in a light tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy wondered whether or not he should really tell her anything important or that could 'help in his recovery,' but he ultimately decided to be safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the fu-" He caught himself before he cursed at her. "What do you want to know?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How about we start with talking about your family? How was life at home?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought back to a few weeks ago when he was at home. It was painful and he could still feel the burning stares of his parents whenever they could see the red lines peeking out from the hem of his shorts, or when he lashed out for apparently no reason, but it was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have two parents. And two dogs, Betty and Walter." Tommy almost smiled thinking of his dogs, they really were the best. Especially when his mother would dress up betty in human clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Tommy didn't say anything else, Lily sighed and moved on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What about school? How was that?" Tommy mentally groaned and started playing with his hands in his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"School was alright. I had some friends, but I stopped talking to them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily made an unreadable face at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's that face for? What are you gonna do, yell at m-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay look, I'm going to set some ground rules here. If you are ever super uncomfortable with what we're discussing, you can tell me and I can ask something else. But this isn't meant for chit chat, I'm supposed to help you in any way I can." She looked him in the eyes, and he could feel the anger starting to heat up in his gut once again, but he forced it down as hard as possible. "I need to know how you're dealing with your mental situation Tommy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy almost retreated back into his own head, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>now was not the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and so he clenched his fists repeatedly, feeling the familiar grooves form where nails met skin. He was feeling floaty, but he had to admit the pain grounded him nicely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>" 'm dealing with my fucking 'mental situation' just fine, thank you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine. Let's switch gears." She shifted in her seat. "Who is your favorite person in the world?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he thought about what he was saying, he blurted out "Tubbo." And just the thought of Tubbo was soothing, almost bringing him back from his floaty state. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was getting attached way too fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tubbo? As in Toby Smith Tubbo?" Lily asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, he's my roommate."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily pulled open a notebook from her desk and scribbled something down with a ballpoint pen. Damn, she was exactly like the TV therapists. The soft leather couch, fake plants, and now the notebook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And why is Toby your favorite person?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy almost stayed silent, but come on this was Tubbo, who he was pretty sure at this point was his best friend. He owed the other boy some credit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He… doesn't try to fix me." Lily turned her head questioningly. "He just lets me be and then forgives me when I lash out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifted his position on the couch, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. He was moving deeper into his head, and it almost… wasn't a bad thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My parents sent me here to get fixed. To get rid of whatever's fucking with my head, but they don't understand that… I can't just change this, it's… it's just me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He licked his drying lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tubbo doesn't think that way. I think- I think he knows that I'm just </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> because- he's got PTSD by the way- he knows what it feels like… and it's kinda nice to have someone like me that understands."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finished, and leaned back into the couch. He was really drifting now, and the thought of Tubbo in his mind was chanting </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe, safe, safe-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the scribble of a pen on rough paper and he was back in Lily's office, on the couch, and she was writing down what he had told her, he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>opened up </span>
  </em>
  <span>to this stranger, she could tell everyone what he was thinking, what was wrong with him, how he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking weak-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tommy? Can you take a deep breath for me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy hadn't realized he wasn't breathing, and gasped as he took in a breath again. A glance at the clock revealed that he had drifted off for- </span>
  <em>
    <span>five whole minutes?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Lily was still sitting in her chair, nonchalant as ever, her pen in her right hand with the notebook propped open in her left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You- you're gonna fucking use that against me. I-" He scratched at his wrist. His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I'm not supposed to tell you anything. I'm supposed to get out of here as fast as possible, I-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tommy chill, you're okay." She giggled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck was she giggling for? He was sitting there having a panic attack and she was fucking giggling.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "I would be fired if I told anyone what happened today. This is medically confidential, Tommy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't need to fucking laugh at me! I- I'm-" He felt hot tears threatening to escape if he blinked again. "I don't like being here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What about Tubbo?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What about Tubbo?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final fifteen minutes of the session fell into a lull, Lily grabbing a bottle of water from a mini fridge underneath her desk, handing it to Tommy, and allowing him to sit with his emotions for a while. He was trying so hard not to cry in front of her, and thankfully it worked, but the moment he left and the door shut behind him, he ran back to his and Tubbo's room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy collapsed on his bed, sobbing into the pillows, all self control lost. He knew that from an outsiders point of view he probably looked like a fucking toddler, pounding his fists into the sheets and throwing a tantrum, but he didn't care one bit. He was in a mental hospital, he was allowed to fucking cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted nothing more than to… he didn't even know what he wanted. Did he want to go home and pet his dogs? Talk to his old friends? Be hugged by his parents again? None of the situations sounded appealing in the slightest, making him sob </span>
  <em>
    <span>even harder</span>
  </em>
  <span>, probably staining the clean pillow with his snot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, at that moment Tubbo </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to walk into their shared room from the bathroom in the hallway, and upon seeing Tommy's state, he froze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy's mind was breaking apart once again, but through the tears he knew he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tubbo. So he made grabby hands at the other boy, hoping he would understand. Luckily he did, lowering himself to sit next to Tommy and holding him to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy broke out in another round of sobs, and Tubbo simply ran the fingers of his right hand through Tommy's hair. It felt nice, Tubbo's grounding presence being more calming than his parents ever were. Tubbo's other hand was holding his, keeping Tommy from scratching himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sor- sorry I keep do- doing this." Tommy hiccuped into Tubbo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Tubbo whispered back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, what did Tommy do to deserve someone like Tubbo?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days passed, and for once he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tommy knew Tubbo was always there for him, and he was always there for Tubbo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had another therapy session, but he managed to mask himself much better, much to the disdain of Lily, but he was still proud of himself, for he would be out of there in no time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe in soulmates?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was during the latest hours of the night, or the earliest hours of the morning, when Tubbo asked the question. He had had a nightmare, and instead of going to see one of the counselors he had woken up Tommy and climbed into bed next to him. It was technically against the rules, but Tommy didn’t care. And rules be damned. His friend- no, his best friend was more important than what anyone else said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s face was still damp and shining from the tears, but he was calmed down, he knew he was safe next to his friend, and that’s all that mattered to Tommy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean big T?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo turned to lay on his back, and looked at the ceiling as if he were deep in thought. Tommy imagined they were outside, in the open air, gazing into the night sky. How he would ask Tubbo to point out the constellations, because of course Tubbo would know the constellations and all of their backstories. It would be nice, this time of year, with the cool air of the summer night making it just the right temperature to go outside in jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a blanket to share and just soak in the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they weren’t outside right now, they were inside a mental hospital, laying on white bed sheets, wearing only short sleeves and shorts, (so the counseling staff could inspect them for self harm- It would be impressive if someone did figure out how to self harm here, because they weren’t even allowed to use real silverware) and instead of the cool summer air it was uncomfortably neutral, as all the rooms were temperature regulated to be as comfortable as possible. Tommy hated it, he wished it were just a bit colder, just enough to bundle up in a blanket and embrace its warmth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soulmates. People who are born to meet each other, who are meant to love and help each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like Dream and George? They always seem to be together. They love each other too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy chuckled. It took Tubbo some time to respond. Tommy thought he had fallen asleep, but he talked in a quiet voice some moments later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… something like that." He shuffled next to Tommy. "It doesn’t have to be romantic, though. Do you know what platonic means?” Tommy nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I believe in platonic soulmates. Romantic too, but mostly platonic. Like a best friend who is always there for you no matter what. Or a sibling that you seem to have a special bond with. Does that make sense? Do you get what I mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy took a breath, staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine that there were divots that mirrored the stars outside. But the ceiling was an impossibly smooth expanse of white, not unlike the snow that would coat his driveway Christmas morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought of the way he and Tubbo had immediately bonded once Tommy was checked into the institution. How instead of turning him away when he fell into his angry haze, Tubbo would calm him down, or bring him to a counselor, or just hold his hand until he was okay again. Or how when Tubbo had a nightmare like right now, and he trusted Tommy most of all to reassure him that he wasn’t in fact reliving those terrible memories, his mind was just bringing them back up to taunt him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought of how he trusted Tubbo with knowing of all his past, even his dreams of the future, one where he didn’t have anything wrong with him, but he could simply live and be happy. Of how he would never be able to think of Tubbo in a negative way, how he would never judge him when he had flashbacks, because that was his best friend who he knew would never leave him. He thought of how he loved Tubbo, not romantically, and not just as a friend, but with a bond that went deeper than he thought was comprehensible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tommy whispered. “That makes perfect sense.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>chapter content warnings:<br/>-self destructive thoughts<br/>-therapy<br/>-mild dissociation<br/>-mental breakdown<br/>-ptsd flashbacks</p><p>Fun fact, the soulmates scene was the first I wrote of this story :) I can't get enough of good communication and strong friendships I guess</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Replaced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy's parents are bad parents.<br/>Tommy's best friend is a good best friend.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Check end notes for chapter specific content warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy both hated and loved the routine of the institution. On one hand, he was given no time to mope around and feel bad for himself. The meals were scheduled, he had scheduled counseling and therapy. He always knew where he was supposed to be at any given time.</p><p> </p><p>However, this is also what bothered him. He never had more than a few minutes to himself, due to his self destructive behavior or whatever the fuck the head counselor had called it. Sure, Tubbo was good company, but Tommy wanted nothing more than 5 minutes of alone time.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo could read Tommy like a book, and so he knew exactly when to leave the boy alone. Tubbo was the one good thing there.</p><p> </p><p>For fucks sake, even the bathrooms didn't lock. They had to sign in to go to the bathrooms, which were inconveniently located outside of the bedrooms. There was an established time limit for using the restroom, so the hall monitoring staff would knock on the door after two minutes, and open it after three. It felt like a major invasion of his privacy, Tommy thought. What if he needed to take a massive shit? That definitely can't happen in under three minutes.</p><p> </p><p>But back to the pros of the tight schedule, Tommy always had one thing to look forward to. Such as dessert at six thirty pm on Fridays, or leisure groups at nine forty five am on Wednesdays. It almost felt pathetic that he was looking forward to these planned events like a child in elementary school, but Tommy grew to appreciate it.</p><p> </p><p>Then it came time for his parents to visit him.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>One night Tommy had asked Tubbo about his parents visiting, which turned out to be a bad idea at first due to the instant panic attack, but with time and patience Tubbo calmed down and explained his situation. </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo took a very long time between each sentence, and struggled to breathe at some points, but Tommy held his hand and was calm.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo was the only person Tommy would be patient for.</p><p> </p><p>And Tommy almost cried when Tubbo told him that he had been sexually assaulted for most of his childhood. If he could, he would hunt them down himself. They deserved it.</p><p> </p><p>"My parents are in prison now. Life sentence," Tubbo finally said, ending his explanation. Inwardly, Tommy thanked whatever god existed that Tubbo would be safe, but outwardly, he quirked an eyebrow. Where would Tubbo go when he was released?</p><p> </p><p>Seemingly reading his mind, Tubbo spoke again.</p><p> </p><p>"You know Wilbur and Da- sorry- Techno?" Tubbo asked Tommy, who nodded in response. Yes, Tommy knew of the lanky depressed boy and the deranged 'blood god.'</p><p> </p><p>"Well their dad- his name is Phil, he's a great guy. Must be hard for him to have to watch his sons go through this- anyways, he arranged to be my legal guardian once I get released." Tubbo smiled brightly, and Tommy could tell he was truly fond of the man.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, that's amazing," Tommy said. He really was happy for Tubbo. However, he was scared of how his encounter with his own parents would go.</p><p> </p><p> "How do the… visits work? Mine is later tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>"Phil just signs in at the reception desk and they take him into a room that's kinda like the counseling offices. And then the staff comes to bring the three of us to see him for up to an hour."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy let out a breath. He would see his parents for an hour, and he didn't know how to feel about it. Of course, they were his parents and he loved them, but they also hated him enough to boot him out of the house…</p><p> </p><p>Either way, it would be a good break from the monotone routine he had been loving for the past weeks.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Tommy sat by himself in the visitation room, waiting for his parents to enter. They had agreed with the administration that they would arrive at ten thirty, but it was now ten minutes past that time and they had yet to show up. It made Tommy nervous, but they did have a bit of a late streak when it came to scheduled appointments.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy had to admit the room he was in was quite strange. The chairs were… rubbery? And hollow, bowing down slightly when sat upon. Laying around the room were children's toys (teddy bears, blocks) and papers with crayons. It all felt very surreal to Tommy, as if he was transported back to first grade play time.</p><p> </p><p>The door creaked open, shattering his deep thought and causing him to jump, almost falling out of his seat.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry, honey, it's just us!" the voice of his mother rang out.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned as his mother and father shuffled in and closed the door behind them, looking around the room with judgemental faces. He could tell they were wary of the fact that Tommy had been surrounded by children's items instead of a plain room. Nonetheless, they made their way over to sit in the rubber chairs across from Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stared at his feet.</p><p> </p><p>His parents stared at him.</p><p> </p><p>"So, how is life here Tommy?"</p><p> </p><p>He inwardly cringed at his father's voice; he hadn't realized previously how aggressive it sounded.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine."</p><p> </p><p>A few moments passed, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioner and his feet shuffling on the carpet.</p><p> </p><p>"For God's sake Tom, we sent you here to fix you, not for you to get more closed off and disrespectful!"</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widened, and he flinched, not expecting his mother to speak so loudly.</p><p> </p><p>His father cut in as well.</p><p> </p><p>"She's right Thomas, you've gotta try! You care about us right?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shook, the judgement getting to be too much for him.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course I do, I just-"</p><p> </p><p>"Then you have to act like it."</p><p> </p><p>He made eye contact with his father for the first time. The older man's gaze was serious and stern, boring into Tommy's soul. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm not here to get fixed, i'm here to- to learn how to cope." He repeated in as even a voice he could what his therapist had been telling him. She made a point of reminding Tommy that his mental illness was a part of him that couldn't be removed.</p><p> </p><p>His ears started to ring. His hand itched for the hold of someone who wasn't there with him, who was instead sitting in their shared room minutes away.</p><p> </p><p>"Bullshit," His mother whispered. She nudged his father. "Should we tell him?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and spoke.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom. There's a reason we sent you here instead of just getting a normal therapist."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy ran through the possibilities in his head, but nothing seemed to have matched up with their moods. He thought he was simply too dangerous to himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom, your mother is pregnant."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy's ears popped.</p><p> </p><p>That's why he couldn't stay with them. They were too scared of him hurting his younger sibling. They really believed He would do something to a child?</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, you heard your father-"</p><p> </p><p>"No, w-what!? You thought I would- I would hurt a child?"</p><p> </p><p>"Tom, you never know-"</p><p> </p><p>"No! That's bullshit! Have I ever hurt anyone besides myself?"</p><p> </p><p>"No Toms, but it's possible-"</p><p> </p><p>"Have I ever gotten even close to hurting you guys?"</p><p> </p><p>Silence.</p><p> </p><p>He stood up, not looking at his parents. They didn't deserve it.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom, wait-"</p><p> </p><p>He slipped through the door and slammed it shut.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The security guard outside of the room escorted him back to his own room. The man had offered to bring Tommy to a counselor, but that was the last thing Tommy would like to have done. So he just shook his head and kept walking.</p><p> </p><p>The short walk was silent, and Tommy struggled to keep his emotions contained until he was safe- or as safe as he could be- within the walls of his room.</p><p> </p><p>Once the pair arrived at the door frame (again, no doors) Tommy quietly thanked the man and stepped into the room, only to collapse heavily on his bed.</p><p> </p><p>After a few moments of staring at the wall, he broke and let his emotional barriers shatter. With it came a dry sob, and another, and then tears, everything inside gushing out, until he was gasping for breath, holding onto his pillow like a lifeline. His eyes were shut.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They're replacing me. They're fucking replacing me. They thought I would hurt a baby, they thought I would hurt a child, they thought I would-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He clawed at his throat, relishing in the pain that blossomed from the lines he carved.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They don't want me-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shrieked when he felt someone touch him, but immediately calmed once he recognized the small, soft hand now in his. And so he sobbed his brains out, subconsciously bringing himself closer to his best friend, making his shirt soggy and soaked with snot. </p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo, they- they- they think I'm gonna- I'm-"</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't finish his sentence, instead collapsing into another sobbing fit. It was getting hard to breathe, and he felt his mind fog up as he got more dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy. I need you to breathe."</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo's soothing voice was like a beacon of hope, and he longed to swim over and be rescued, but he still could reach it, it was too far. He was drowning, sinking in the water while Tubbo reached out for him and their fingers barely brushed, a sudden weight attaching to Tommy's ankle and pulling him <em>down, down, down-</em></p><p> </p><p>He felt his body being moved, Tubbo's hand held the side of his head, his ear was cradled safely against his best friend's chest, he could hear a steady thump, thump, thump…</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't much, but the faraway rhythm of a heartbeat allowed him to take a shuddering breath between every few sobs.</p><p> </p><p>Until he was an eventual puddle of hiccups and hot tears.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo ran his hand through Tommy's hair, and he leaned into the touch. Tubbo was the only thing keeping him tethered to his being. </p><p> </p><p>Odds were, if Tubbo wasn't there he would be passed out, his consciousness drifting through space as his brain tried desperately to attach mind and body.</p><p> </p><p>He did end up passing out.</p><p> </p><p>However, instead of being unable to breathe, alone in the room of a mental institution, he was with his Tubbo, breathing, and safe.</p><p> </p><p>He had just touched the little beacon before being pulled down, but a hand grabbed his, firmly this time, and yanked him out of the water.</p><p> </p><p>He did not dream.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He woke up still in Tubbo's arms. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy was leaned against his chest still, both of the other boy's arms around him, holding onto a thick book that he was reading.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy wondered why Tubbo would enjoy reading, he was dyslexic after all. Instead of saying anything, Tommy just curled himself closer to his best friend, the other boy taking notice and adjusting his legs.</p><p> </p><p>They sat in silence for a while.</p><p> </p><p>"It's almost lunch time, Tommy."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy groaned, closing his eyes. He wished he could stay in the room, but there was no chance he could without one of the staff coming to check on him. And then they would see the angry lines he had scratched into his neck, and he would be even more closely monitored. He might even have risked being placed in a private room, which may as well have been solitary confinement.</p><p> </p><p>Silently, he unfolded himself from Tubbo's hold, keeping their hands together and only letting go to reach up onto his shelf and change into a higher necked tee shirt. It didn't fully cover the damage, but hopefully it would be enough to keep the prying eyes of the institution staff away.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes felt puffy and raw, however more than half of the patients seemed to look that way at any point. No point in trying to hide it.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck it.</p><p> </p><p>He took Tubbo's hand again, and Tubbo led them to the cafeteria, Tommy sticking close to the smaller boy and staring at the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Damn, the tiles looked the exact same as they did every other time he went down that hall. How exciting.</p><p> </p><p>When they arrived in the dining hall, Tommy momentarily closed his eyes, the noise of conversation and food distribution being too much, but Tubbo pulling him along made him force himself to place one foot in front of the other.</p><p> </p><p>He felt all eyes on him as he sat down, scooting his chair so close it touched Tubbo's, Tommy hunching over to make himself seem smaller.</p><p> </p><p>Thank God for Niki, who understood what was happening and immediately resumed her conversation with Wilbur. Even though she was scary as fuck, she really was a nice person. Tommy knew everyone else only pretended to look away, just as they had the day Tommy first arrived and George had had a small panic over dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of George, he was nowhere to be seen. Next to Dream, whose face was distraught and broken, was an empty chair. No one said anything.</p><p> </p><p>That seemed to be the theme of this place. No one said anything important aloud.</p><p> </p><p>Looking around the table, Tommy noticed that he recognized most of the faces but still hadn't remembered their names. It was so immediately funny that he laughed, deep in his chest, startling Tubbo, who dropped a piece of steamed broccoli onto his plate.</p><p> </p><p>He laughed, eventually gasping for breath, which caused him to sound hysteric. Tubbo gave him a concerned look, nonverbally asking for an explanation.</p><p> </p><p>And boy would he get one.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo I-" He laughed again. "I don't even know most of these people! I've been here for- for what? Three weeks? And I don't even know that person's name!"</p><p> </p><p>He pointed towards a woman with medium length brown hair and a plain grey tee shirt. She seemed surprised that he singled her out, but joined in with his laughter.</p><p> </p><p>"That's Puffy, my roommate!" Niki spoke up.</p><p> </p><p>"Puffy! That's one strange name." Tommy sputtered. "Not as weird as Tubbo, though," He added, earning a small shove from the other boy.</p><p> </p><p>The entire table burst out into giggling (except for Dream), Tommy's roaring laughter leading the group. It was the loudest he'd laughed in months most likely.</p><p> </p><p>However, for no reason whatsoever, tears began to leak from Tommy's eyes. And the laughs faded into hiccups and hysteric sobs. The laminated wood of the table suddenly became too much to look at and he closed his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo didn't notice until he glanced over at Tommy amidst the ruckus.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, uh… Tommy." He shook Tommy's shoulder. "They're gonna see, Tom's. You have to at least finish eating."</p><p> </p><p>"I- I can't, Tubbo, I can't, I can't."</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo was silent.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy looked up through a blurred vision to see the entire table sharing a glance, Tubbo discreetly distributing Tommy's lunch across everyone's plate.</p><p> </p><p>"We do this for George sometimes," The smaller boy whispered. "We know how to hide it."</p><p> </p><p>That statement rang true, as the group moved fluidly. Two pieces of broccoli to Niki, a cube of chicken to Techno, a spoon of potatoes to Tubbo. Tommy covered his mouth in an attempt to stay silent from the sobs still wracking his body.</p><p> </p><p>Within moments his own plate was cleared, and everyone had eaten his leftovers.</p><p> </p><p>The pair returned to their room quickly, five minutes before lunch was over, and both collapsed holding each other on Tommy's bed.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo-"</p><p> </p><p>"It's okay Toms. It's okay."</p><p> </p><p>And although it was only the second, for what felt like the millionth time that day Tommy drifted off held close to Tubbo, his sobs smoothing out and allowing him to rest.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content Warnings:<br/>-ptsd flashbacks<br/>-mention of sexual assualt<br/>-graphic panic attack<br/>-self harm<br/>-bad parents ™<br/>-minor eating issues</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Scatter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A return, a reunion, a reminder.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: burns, burn scars, ptsd flashbacks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scattered around the large room were all of the people Tommy had grown familiar with, along with various art supplies that rivaled that of a preschool classroom. The institution called it 'art and music therapy,' and however much Tommy voiced his hatred for it, he secretly enjoyed watching everyone and figuring out their interests.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy and Tubbo generally stuck near Wilbur, Niki, and Techno (and sometimes Eret). Tubbo was surprisingly adept at origami and often made little paper cranes for Tommy to hold. Of course, he wasn't allowed to bring the paper outside of the specified area, but he always made sure to hide the paper creations behind or under furniture to make it more difficult for the cleaning staff to erase the evidence that he had been there. Tubbo always pretended not to notice Tommy's mischievous behavior, comically whistling and looking at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>Fundy and Eret always kept to small talk, occasionally taking out sheets of white construction paper to scribble shitty doodles or games of tic tac toe. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur was one of the few occupants of the room who was musically gifted, and therefore always had the room's baby blue electric guitar in his lap. The instrument didn't come equipped with an amp, and so Wilbur made sure to strum the thing hard enough for their small circle to hear.</p><p> </p><p>Niki loved to sing along with his songs.</p><p> </p><p>If Tommy had to be honest, he would describe their tunes as entirely depressing--at times approaching topics of loneliness and even Wilbur's multiple suicide attempts. However, it was quite funny when a monitor would wander over and the lyrics of the songs would shift into overly satirical happy verses, fooling no one, but still keeping Wilbur in the green.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo had finally convinced Tommy to learn how to make an origami bird, and Tommy struggled with discerning between a mountain and a valley fold.</p><p> </p><p>"Just think of a mountain fold as pointing upwards, like the peak of a mountain-"</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo mirrored the shape of a mountain with his hands. He then shifted it into a downwards pointing "v" shape.</p><p> </p><p>"-and a valley fold as going downwards, like a valley."</p><p> </p><p>(It reminded Tommy of his old Piano lessons.</p><p> </p><p>"Sharps are upwards on the musical scale--much like something sharp pointing up. Flats are down, as they are not sharp."</p><p> </p><p>He wished the institution had a Piano, then maybe it would live up to the name 'art and music' therapy. However the room only held the shitty baby blue guitar and an old plastic ukulele.)</p><p> </p><p>It was during one of these two hour blocks when George showed back up after over a week of absence from everything. Meals, therapy, leisure time--no one knew where he went off to except for Dream, who refused to speak.</p><p> </p><p>Dream had recently been frequenting the armchair in the corner of the room, taking five minute naps or staring off into space to waste time.</p><p> </p><p>The light grey door creaked open, and a nurse walked in. Not the normal nurses which were actually just hall monitors--no, this was a real nurse, badge and all. Immediately the room went silent, Wilbur's guitar strumming abruptly muted with the slap of a palm. She ushered in George, who seemed even more impossibly thin.</p><p> </p><p>His face was gaunt and empty, the dark circles underneath his eyes purple and sunken. His lips were chapped, covered with a recently applied layer of chapstick.</p><p> </p><p>Inserted in George's nose was a plastic tube which ran behind his ear and sunk below the collar of his shirt, passing his sickeningly protruding collarbones.</p><p> </p><p>If Tommy didn't know any better he would think that George was a reanimated corpse.</p><p> </p><p>The only sound that could be heard was Dream's scramble across the room, and the thud of the tight, yet impossibly gentle embrace he engulfed George in. Tommy looked away.</p><p> </p><p>The silence was broken by Karl letting out a giggle, Sapnap too concerned with George to stop him. The room burst back into conversation, but all eyes periodically glanced towards Dream, sitting against a wall with George, who was encircled in a hug and basically sitting in the taller man's lap as his nurse supervised their quiet whispers.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy felt for Tubbo's hand next to his and found it already reaching for him as Wilbur resumed a soft picking pattern.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>"Hey Tommy?"</p><p> </p><p>It was visiting day again, and there was a pit growing in Tommy's gut. After the last visit with his parents, and the sudden knowledge of the… news, they had not scheduled another visit.</p><p> </p><p>On one hand, Tommy was utterly pissed. They had dropped life changing information on him, told him they didn't trust him around a fucking child, and gotten mad when he reacted negatively. What did they expect? for Tommy to cower down and apologize for a condition he couldn't control?</p><p> </p><p>However, he was relieved that for at least another week he could ignore what was happening in the outside world, the world he would eventually have to return to; He could reduce the scope of reality to just Tommy and Tubbo and their late night talks, nothing more than fondness and deep thoughts and far-fetched existentialism. That was one small mercy he celebrated.</p><p> </p><p>Either way, he would never admit, even to himself, how deeply he missed his family. They obviously didn't care for him, so why would he care for them? But the mix of swirling emotions brewing within him left a bitter taste in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy," Tubbo's voice interrupted him, "you there?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy blinked, resurfacing from his thoughts. He was feeling a bit dizzy, he could have been at the cusp of getting all floaty again if not for Tubbo.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah… yeah I'm here."</p><p> </p><p>The two boys were sat in the rec room for their morning free time after breakfast, having snagged the only electronics in the room: an old NES housing a beat-up Sonic the Hedgehog cartridge.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo paused the game.</p><p> </p><p>"So uh, let me know if this is overstepping or anything, because I don't wanna be a bad friend-"</p><p> </p><p>"Spit it out, dude-" Tommy interjected with a chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>"I just know that your family isn't visiting today and was wondering if maybe you would want to come with Techno and Wilbur and I to go see Phil?"</p><p> </p><p>The words tumbled out of Tubbo's mouth as if he had rehearsed them.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy's face dropped at the mention of his parents along with the weight of the offer. His mind supplied two opposing stances on the subject:</p><p>1. Tubbo is being a really nice friend and you should go with to meet his family. It might help you understand him better. You also should get to know Phil because he seems like a lovely guy.</p><p>2. Tubbo is being a really nice friend and inviting you to meet his family, but this is out of pity. He feels bad for you. If you go with, you would intrude on a rare familial moment that you don't deserve to be a part of.</p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly, his brain prompted him to pursue the latter option.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo, I don't want to intrude on your only time with family-"</p><p> </p><p>"You are family, Tommy."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy felt the involuntary sting of tears in his eyes, momentarily losing the ability to speak. After opening his mouth and closing it again, he opted to lean into Tubbo as he closed his eyes and drifted a bit from the overwhelming emotion that seemed to suddenly flatten him.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm guessing that's a yes?"</p><p> </p><p>He could feel Tubbo's fingers running through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy hummed, nodding into Tubbo's chest, the game forgotten on the screen next to them. Tubbo smiled.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>"Tommy, what type of music do you like?"</p><p> </p><p>The four boys were sitting on the couch in a visiting room, waiting for Phil to arrive.</p><p> </p><p>(Or at least they were meant to be sitting on the couch. Wilbur was pacing back and forth and periodically stopping to bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet. It was the most actively excited Tommy had ever seen him.)</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno. I just listen to what I think sounds good to me I guess."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shrugged, not showing how difficult it was for him to force the words out. To put it simply, he was very panicked about meeting the man Tubbo always spoke so highly about, and his worries about taking up their family time were still wholly present.</p><p> </p><p>"Aw come on, that's bull," Wilbur playfully quipped. "You have to like at least a specific group, like crywank, modern base-"</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur's sentence was cut short by the sound of the door opening as a man wearing a long coat stepped inside.</p><p> </p><p>"DAD!"</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur tackled the man in a crushing hug, rocking the pair back and forth. Phil chuckled, stroking his son's hair and returning a soft "hello!".</p><p> </p><p>After a few long moments of the group watching the pair hug, Phil reminded Wilbur that while he would love to hug him for an hour, he had the rest of the family to talk to as well. </p><p> </p><p>(If Tommy didn't know any better he would compare Wilbur's behavior to that of a child. But the voice of his therapist rang out in his mind: "behaviors don't have age specifications, but sometimes mental strain can make someone act more or less mature. It's not our place to judge!")</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur sheepishly backed away and sat down in his seat between Techno and Tubbo. </p><p> </p><p>There were two more hugs exchanged, albeit less intense but still as emotional. Tommy repressed his giggles when Phil had to bend down to hug Tubbo, because damn that boy was short!</p><p> </p><p>It took Tommy a moment to realize that Phil had turned to him, probably expecting a hug.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nodded, for some reason the words yes, that's me were stuck in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I hug you?"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nodded again, standing up and hesitantly leaning into the set of open arms in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>It was probably the warmest and safest hug he had ever felt, and he smiled imperceptibly as he hesitantly returned the hug by wrapping his arms around the older blond.</p><p> </p><p>It was over as quick as it started, though, and Tommy was both grateful it was over and also missing the safety of the embrace.</p><p> </p><p>He was fully prepared for Phil to start asking him if he was fixed yet, if the institution was making him normal. It took a few minutes before Tommy remembered that this man was kind, and not at all like his parents, especially considering the praise he received from Tubbo. </p><p> </p><p>But he still kept his guard up, not knowing if maybe Phil was smart enough to trick the lot of them into thinking he was a good person, while inside he was scheming something.</p><p> </p><p>By the time he gathered himself, the conversation was flowing around him, and it was nice. Phil never pressured the boys into talking, instead bringing up memories of when Wilbur and Techno were younger and unaware of their future struggles. The brothers would smile and chime in their point of view, Techno clarifying that no, he did not collect a jar of ants to release inside the house, they went in the jar of their own free will and escaped accordingly.</p><p> </p><p>At one point Tommy found himself explaining his prior addiction to coca cola, which received a sudden burst of giggles from Tubbo, who commented that Tommy's mood swings must be attributed to withdrawal. </p><p> </p><p>"It's not cocaine, Tubbo, it's carbonated sugar water!"</p><p> </p><p>"Same thing!"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy just scoffed, and listened back in as Techno began to talk animatedly (or as animated as the dull man could be) about how excited he was to get his hands back on his favorite pair of swords once released. Phil rolled his eyes in a way that pushed Tommy to guess that Techno and swords were quite an interesting duo.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo even told Phil about Wilbur's 'silly' songs during art and music therapy, and Phil didn't scold him for making fun of heavy topics. He just laughed along, and told Wilbur he did a great job with not getting caught.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy was smiling softly the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>That is, until the group somehow got into the topic of their sleep schedules--before being admitted, that is. Tommy bet that he had the worst sleep schedule, but Techno admitted that he used to average three hours of sleep a night, when he did decide to sleep at all. The man practically lived off of coffee.</p><p> </p><p>Phil interjected by mumbling about the importance of healthy sleeping for children.</p><p> </p><p>"We aren't kids, dad!" Wilbur responded.</p><p> </p><p>And then Tommy made the mistake of bringing up his mother.</p><p> </p><p>"Hell yeah, we're big men! You know, mom always says-"</p><p> </p><p>He caught himself with a shaky breath and was confused, surprised, even, by the sudden feeling of wetness in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"I-"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy could feel all the eyes in the room on him as he clamped his mouth shut and stared at the floor, willing the tears to go away, because he would not cry in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>"You alright, mate?"</p><p> </p><p>Phil was looking at him with such concerned eyes. It made him feel… seen. He almost asked for a hug, but this was the man's time with his family, not time to comfort Tommy during a pathetic little breakdown.</p><p> </p><p>So he nodded, blinking quickly.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy, you don't have to-"</p><p> </p><p>The door opened, and the hall monitor stepped in, dressed in that stupid-ass fake nurse uniform. It made Tommy flare up with anger.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry lads, visiting is over. Say your goodbyes!"</p><p> </p><p>Phil looked at Tommy for a moment longer before standing up, hugging each of his sons tightly, and promising to return at the same time next week.</p><p> </p><p>Lastly, he hugged Tommy in the same way he did the other three, and after, when Tommy pulled away, he spoke with a genuine smile, his blue eyes meeting the younger's.</p><p> </p><p>"I expect you to be back here next week too."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy didn't have time to reply before the man gave a final "Love you boys" and waved as he stepped out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day he spent only saying a few necessary words, not having it in him to articulate his thoughts for other people. He made sure, though, that Tubbo understood that he appreciated him for inviting him. And when Tommy fell asleep, for some reason he couldn't help but imagine himself being a part of the family. Quickly, he shut down the hopeful idea and curled in on himself. He already had his own family.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He woke up to the sound of muffled crying.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't out of the ordinary for Tubbo to have nightmares, or flashbacks, or whatever they were called. Normally Tommy could quickly calm the boy down, rambling about random shit he thought was interesting. He found that distraction was usually the best method for snapping Tubbo out of it.</p><p> </p><p>Another sob broke Tommy out of his thoughts. He stood up and shuffled over to Tubbo's bed, growing a bit confused when he saw Tubbo still asleep, clutching at the right side of his shirt and struggling to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo?" He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>No response.</p><p> </p><p>"Tubbo?" He tried again, in a quiet voice.</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy hesitantly reached out, knowing what the reaction would be, and placed a gentle hand on the other boy's arm. </p><p> </p><p>The result of this was a shrill scream as his eyes flew open, but he quickly shut them again and flinched away as he sat up and curled into a ball. He was still hyperventilating, uneven breathing being the only sound in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy's eyes widened, that scream was definitely loud enough for the hall monitors to hear. All he could do was hope and pray to whatever universal force of good that no one would barge into the room and force Tubbo to go talk to a counselor.</p><p> </p><p>He moved over to where Tubbo sat shaking on his bed. Trying to breathe as deeply and loudly as he could, he instructed Tubbo to follow his breathing patterns.</p><p> </p><p>"That's it, that's it, boss man. Breathe. It's a flashback, it's not real."</p><p> </p><p>Eventually Tubbo's unfocused eyes opened, and upon adjusting to the dim light they landed on Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy?" he whispered.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo opened his mouth and closed it a few times, seemingly unable to get the words out between still shuddering breaths. Suddenly, another sob wrenched its way out, and Tubbo stood up quickly, swaying from a lack of steady oxygen, and sat himself down in the middle of the floor.</p><p> </p><p>What happened next confused Tommy to all hell, but he kept silent as he watched.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo shakingly clawed at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head, dropping it as soon as the fabric fell away from his neck and he could bury his face in his hands again. What Tommy saw made him want to scream in rage, or throw up, or start crying. Or maybe all three at once.</p><p> </p><p>In the dim light he could make out the shape of burns running all along the right side of Tubbo's body, beginning just under the collarbone and continuing under the waistband of his pants. Tommy's vision flashed red for a moment, however, when he realized that while the burns overlapped in varying shapes, they were lined up intentionally to be hidden.</p><p> </p><p>Someone had purposefully done this to him.</p><p> </p><p>It probably took him too long to notice, but Tubbo's uncontrollable sobs had reduced to soft crying, and when he looked back up at Tommy his eyes were slightly more refocused, indicating that he was no longer in a flashback state.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy wasted no time in taking the boy in a hug, not caring if he was shirtless, and letting him cry into his shoulder. He also wasted no time in letting the angry tears fall out of his own unblinking eyes. No one was around to tell, anyways.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so so sorry this chapter took me so long. Just... a lot of things have been piling up on me and I've had absolutely no energy to do anything. I don't want to dump my sad stories in the end notes though! I really do love writing though and should get back in the swing of things soon.</p><p>love you guys &lt;3</p><p>(quick note that the reason behind Tubbo needing to take his shirt off and sit on the floor is associated with sensory overload! it happens to me sometimes when I'm panicked and fabric texture can be too much)</p><p>edit: don't get confused if the chapter names change, I'm retitling them to better fit :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading, comments and Kudos make my day! Feel free to ask any questions.</p><p>Go check out my tumblr :)</p><p>http://mellohi-s.tumblr.com</p><p>Love you guys, until next time &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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